


My Heart Will Always Be Yours

by Silvandar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, OtaYuri Mini Bang 2019, no beta we die like women, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 19:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvandar/pseuds/Silvandar
Summary: Yuri has trained his entire life to be ambassador to the river valley kingdom of Kah'zhak, and is happy until he discovers the role comes with the price of being wed to a stranger. To make matters worse, the current ambassador, his grandfather, has arranged everything, and refuses to tell him who his husband will be!Written for OtaYuri Mini Bang 2019. Art by Hemisphaerica





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for OtaYuri Mini Bang 2019, with beautiful art by [Hemisphaerica](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/897328)
> 
> I'm not dead!! It's been forever since I last posted, oh my gosh... so long I was even logged out of the site?! 
> 
> I've been doing Inktober and had some family drama earlier in the year, as well as working on a couple of bangs... and this is the result! Hopefully you'll like this fic, but either way I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. 
> 
> Please do check out the amazing art for the fic on the link above, and leave some love for Hemisphaerica!

Yuri, third son of House Plisetsky, carrying the weighty title of Duke of the Frozen Fall, gazed out across the river valley and curled his lip, patting his horse as the animal snuffled the breeze. Kah'zhak was beautiful, there was no denying it; the river played through the fields below, a gleaming sapphire ribbon bringing life and prosperity to the small kingdom. All around their weary caravan, mountains thrust their snow capped spires into the azure sky, the shade a welcome break from the heat of midday.

“What do you think of your new home?”

“Nothing a good glacier couldn't fix,” Yuri sneered, and his companion chuckled, recognising the begrudging approval in the young duke's voice. Pulling her horse level, his escort, Milla, surveyed the kingdom spread out below them with a practised eye.

“Your betrothed must own a decent holding,” she commented, and Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Maybe farmland on the river, something with a decent income. I can't imagine your grandfather would have approved the match otherwise.”

“I don't give a shit.”

“At least you were allowed your preference of gender,” Milla chided him, ordering the rest of the soldiers to prepare to move on. “You could have ended up with a _wife..._”

“Shut up, hag” Yuri turned his horse, handling the beast gently despite his growing fury. “There's no good side of being sold like chattle.”

“_Sold,_” Milla scoffed, “yes, yes, being betrothed to a wealthy man in a beautiful kingdom in order to preserve the safety of your homeland is such a burden.” Shaking her head, she rode away from him back towards the others. “At least you're not expected to birth children,” she added, and Yuri caught the bitterness in her voice. Her decision to become a career soldier hadn't been made entirely through choice, after all... she'd preferred a lifetime of battle over the alternative of becoming a married woman and a mother. Sighing, he waved a hand at her, the closest she'd get to an apology, and she smiled at his retreating back.

He knew in reality the prospect of his upcoming marriage wasn't as awful as he made out. Groomed since a young age for a life at the palace, the expectation had always been that he would marry into the Kah'zhak culture and succeed his grandfather, the ambassador for Snezhnaya Gora, when Nikolai was ready to retire to his estates in the valley. So it had been for the old man, married to a young lady of the Kah'zhak court, and so it would be for Yuri. The blonde had no romantic connections to anyone else, and no emotions towards the idea of marriage either way. Moving to Kah'zhak meant being close to his grandfather, something he'd missed terribly in the years between the old man's visits home. When it was Yuri's turn to retire, one of his nephews or nieces would come to take over for him, and he would find them a match just as Nikolai had done. Such was life for the youngest children of the royal family.

* * *

“Grandfather!”

The privacy of the Ambassadorial suite in the palace meant Yuri could indulge himself by throwing himself into Nikolai's arms, apologising immediately as the old man protested the sore state of his back. Wrapping himself around his grandfather, Yuri closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of pipe blended tobacco, patchouli and neroli that was his earliest and fondest memory.

“Welcome home, Yuratchka.”

Yuri tensed, then forced himself to relax. He _was_ home. It didn't matter that he was hundreds of miles away from his country. Home had, and always would be, grandfather.

“I missed you, deda.”

“I missed you too.” Pushing Yuri back, Nikolai ran his eyes over his youngest grandchild fondly. “You've not grown much. Are you eating enough? You're still built like a whip.”

“Pfff,” Yuri flushed, straightening up. He was sensitive about his height... all his siblings and cousins were tall and willowy, but even though he was eighteen, he was still only 5'6''. He awoke every day hoping for the signs of his adult growth spurt, but so far no luck.

“Victor told me I'm a half breed with a fae,” he muttered, and Nikolai laughed out loud.

“Your cousin is mean... and he was just the same at your age. Height will come... you might end up taller than me!”

Duke Nikolai Plisetsky of Snezhnaya Gora, Ambassador to the Royal House Altin of Kah'zhak, watched his grandson explore the suite with an amused look on his face. The tiny blonde poked his nose everywhere, curious as a cat. When the caravan had entered the palace, even from a distance Nikolai could read the stubborn set of his shoulders and the tension in his posture. Much of that nervous aggression was gone now, replaced by the peace the child always felt in the presence of his grandfather.

Not such a child any more, Nikolai corrected himself. Eighteen and a man, old enough to marry and inherit titles and lands in both countries. Although Yuri would never call Snezhnaya Gora home again, there was an estate in his name that would one day contain the ashes of both Nikolai and Yuri... the final rest of generations of Ambassadors both before and after them. Housing many of the Plisetsky relatives, the estate was a symbolic anchor for those who served their country in the river valley of Kah'zhak.

“Yura, come sit with an old man for a moment,” Nikolai gestured to the low table, settling onto the cushions. Yuri obediently folded himself up, grimacing as he tried to find a comfortable position. “Sit on your knees like this,” the Ambassador demonstrated, “you'll get used to it in time.”

“You should import some chairs,” Yuri grumped, and Nikolai laughed.

“My old knees agree with you... but then I'd be out of practice for the king's table!” Clapping his hands, Nikolai watched the blonde's enthusiasm with a smile as tea and sweets were served. Yuri had a savoury tooth, but the lure of the honey soaked, nutty pastries presented to him was too strong.

“What are these?” the blonde sniffed then chewed, expression turning enraptured.

“Baklava, or the regional variant thereof. Not so popular in Snezhnaya Gora, but very much a staple of the sweet tray here. The kitchen has my recipe for pirozhki though, don't worry. I remember how much you like them.”

Nodding furiously, Yuri sipped his bitter black tea, enjoying the way it complimented the sweets. “I didn't think you'd lived here this long without pirozhki,” he agreed, and they both laughed, before Nikolai's expression turned serious.

“We should talk about your wedding.”

Yuri set his tea down and pushed the cup away, looking disgusted. “Done with buttering me up already, old man?”

“I know it's not what you want. I felt the same when I came here,” Nikolai waited as that sank in, Yuri's brow unclenching a little. “I know you have questions. Ask.”

“Who am I marrying?”

“Ask anything but that,” holding his hand up at Yuri's protest, Nikolai shook his head. “There is a tradition here that a wedding must take place by the full moon following the announcement of a betrothal. One month, essentially. Your fiancé's father and I have agreed you will be married in summer, so the announcement will be made in March next year.”

“Happy birthday to me,” Yuri muttered darkly. Nikolai ignored him.

“Since that leaves you nearly ten months to get to know this place and learn everything you need at court, I decided it was best to keep the identity of your husband-to-be a secret from you until the announcement. I know you, Yura... given ten months to resent and despise the poor man, you'd create an insurmountable barrier between the two of you before you even get engaged. Even if you actually liked him, you'd do it out of spite.”

Yuri grudgingly acknowledged the truth of old man's argument. “So what, I just walk around blindly while he judges me?”

“Of course not. He doesn't know who you are, either. All he knows is that he's engaged to a man, it's a political marriage, and it will be announced next March.”

“So both of us are in the dark?!” Yuri looked outraged, but Nikolai laughed.

“Given your personalities, it's the best way. He's not as stubborn and ill-mannered as you, but he takes his commitments and his family very seriously. If you insulted him badly enough early on, he might struggle to forgive you. Best to be avoided all round, don't you think?”

“Whatever. I don't get a say, so why worry.” Yuri leaned back on the cushions, poking the remains of his snack around his plate to control his anger. “So what do I do for the next ten months?”

“Learn to be an Ambassador.”

“I've been learning that my entire life,” Yuri pointed out.

“You've been learning about Snezhnaya Gora and _her_ needs,” Nikolai pointed out. “Now, it's time for you to learn about Kah'zhak. Starting with the Royal family, who you are going to formally meet tomorrow. For tonight, bath and early bed.” Clapping his hands again, Nikolai smiled as a middle aged, craggy looking man entered the room and bowed low. “This is Nurlan, he is to be your primary steward. Please try not to make his life too difficult?”

Eyeing the even-tempered expression on Nurlan's face, Yuri judged him a good fit and nodded, rising and bowing to his grandfather. “Until tomorrow,” he replied, using the Kah'zhak language now that they were no longer alone. The old many nodded approvingly, and then snagged the remains of Yuri's baklava to eat with sympathetic smile.

“Sleep well, Yuratchka.”


	2. Chapter 2

His Royal Highness, seventh in line to the throne, Guardian of the Traditions of the Kah'zhak Riverlands, Prince Otabek of the House of Altin, patted the nose of his horse distractedly as he waited for the rest of the party to mount up. His father had ordered him to give the new Ambassador Heir a tour of the valley, but failed to mention that he would be making formal introductions to the village leaders and distant royal relatives on their route. The prospect of a quiet, uneventful trip disintegrated the moment he met the volatile blonde.

Otabek was intelligent, and empathetic enough to recognise Yuri's situation. Far from home, engaged to a stranger he hadn't even met yet, and being molded into a role that was not entirely suited to his personality, the smaller man's emotions frequently rose to the surface and had already caused a number of minor scandals in the few weeks he'd been in the capital. His grandfather's reputation as a stoic, generous man had smoothed things over, and Yuri had been entrusted to Otabek for his potentially calming influence. The youngest heir to the Kah'zhak throne was renowned for many of the same qualities as ambassador Nikolai, and Yuri seemed to respond well to him.

“Heir to the throne” was a loose term, Otabek knew... between him and the crown stood six brothers and a sister, the eldest of which had been groomed since birth to rule. Once Otabek's thoughtful, straightforward nature presented itself as a child, he was steered away from politics and into the museums and library books, discovering a deep love of culture and history. Studying under his uncle, when the old man passed away, Otabek inherited his title and positions, which apparently now also included wrangling small, angry ambassadors-to-be.

Yuri dragged himself into his saddle, stifling a yawn and casting sensitive eyes over the brightly lit yard. Allegedly he'd been up drinking and dancing with some of the younger members of the court until sunrise, and was found passed out and still dressed from the night before when the servants went to rouse him for departure. Evidently, he liked the prospect of several months of travelling as much as Otabek did, but bore it far less gracefully. He looked distinctly worse for wear, turning an interesting shade of green at the motions of his horse. Otabek bit back a smirk and moved level with him, steadying the other mount.

“Don't say it,” Yuri protested, winning a chuckle from the prince. The low sound made him smile despite his swimming head, and he rolled his eyes to elicit more amusement. He prized the fact that he could coax smiles and laughter from the usually stern and silent man, a skill he'd discovered early on in their acquaintance. Otabek had been instrumental in teaching the ambassador-in-training about Kah'zhak culture and tradition, helping him navigate the murky social waters since his first days in the palace. Although he frequently gave the older man justified cause to scold him, Otabek never even raised an eyebrow at his antics. His patience and sympathy to Yuri's difficulty in adjusting to valley life was something the blonde desperately appreciated.

* * *

The weeks flew past as they travelled the length and breadth of the valley. Long, miserable days spent in the saddle were washed away with kindness and comfort when they reached a village or isolated farmstead. In every place they visited, Yuri was astonished at the generosity of the locals, and the awareness and empathy of his guide. Otabek carefully assessed the prosperity of their hosts before deciding where to billet his guards; at humble farmsteads, the guards were kept on their rations and the group camped unobtrusively, with only Otabek and Yuri accepting the immediate offer of dinner. Kah'zhak culture involved a tradition of hospitality, and to refuse entirely would have been irrevocably rude, but Yuri quickly noticed that Otabek carefully left food on his plate to indicate he was done eating after the first offering, even if they were still hungry, to avoid making the host's already meagre situation worse.

By the third or fourth visit to wealthy, powerful people in the valley, Yuri understood why Otabek held titles, but no political power. The Prince kept a journal of the places they visited, and Yuri grew curious about the code he was using as they travelled. After a visit to an extremely sparse farm, where the host family had barely been able to offer them bread and water, Yuri discovered that Otabek was keeping notes for his older brother, the keeper of the treasury, on where to direct the subsidies for the next financial year.

“So this trip is made _every year_?” Yuri stared at him incredulously

“It's usually done by civil servants,” Otabek explained as they set out their bedrolls. “Requests for subsidies come in formally, of course, but there are always people too proud to ask for help after a bad harvest, and some that just fall through the cracks of bureaucracy. By physically going out and checking, we make sure no-one gets missed.”

“You can also see who's doing well, and check if they've made an application for hardship money,” Yuri speculated, shrewdly.

“Why would anyone do that?” Otabek gave him a confused look.

On another occasion, the pair watched morning court play out in a small town. “The council are wise and just,” Otabek murmured, “and the council leader is widely respected.”

Yuri bit his lip to hold back a snide retort. Compared to the politics he'd grown up with in the Royal court of Snezhnaya Gora, the corruption at play here was mild, almost childish, nothing more sinister than some bribery and a little scandal, possibly some blackmail... but Otabek's complete inability to see it baffled him. The Prince had an optimistic, soft view of the world, unaffected by his experiences... or perhaps he just wanted to see the best in people, no matter what.

The blonde wondered if that was why Otabek could stand long periods around him.

* * *

Summer faded into Autumn as they toured the valley, long sunny days shifting to cooler nights and brief squalls of rain. As the first hints of brown touched the leaves, Otabek instructed his men to help around any farms that hosted them, cutting firewood and gathering crops as needed. The travel slowed considerably, but Yuri was touched by the determination of the young prince to help his people prepare for winter. At night a larger fire was lit and thicker blankets were bought in the towns as the cold crept into the ground.

Over the months of travel, Yuri and Otabek had developed a habit of sleeping close together, talking in whispers to avoid disturbing the guards as they reviewed the events of the day. One night, as the temperature dropped, Otabek wrapped a blanket around them both, snuggling them together in their bedrolls, and Yuri raised an eyebrow.

“Body heat,” the prince explained, a dusting of pink rising in his cheeks. Yuri shrugged, trying to ignore the frantic racing of his heart as he curled closer, the conversation stilted and awkward for the first time since they'd left the capital. The nervous tension only lasted a few minutes; once the additional warmth built up, Yuri sighed with relief and snuggled even closer, eyes closing as he drifted towards sleep. They woke up pressed against each other, Otabek's head under Yuri's chin, drawing comfort from each other. The guards knew better than to comment, but a few amused looks were passed around.

For the first time since learning of his betrothal to an unknown stranger, Yuri felt a soft pang of regret.


	3. Chapter 3

“This will be your last morning waking up on the ground,” Otabek murmured as Yuri stirred awake, but to his surprise the blonde gave a sigh instead of the relief he was expecting. Yuri snuggled deeper into his embrace and buried his face in Otabek's chest, fighting the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I suppose...”

Tightening his arms around the blonde, Otabek rested his chin on Yuri's head and closed his eyes, his heart suddenly in his throat. “Clean sheets, a warm bedroom... fresh baked bread instead of trail rations... doesn't that sound nice?”

“'S'pose...” the reply was nearly inaudible, muffled by the fabric of Otabek's shirt.

“I...” Otabek shook his head, cutting himself off. No matter how close they'd become while travelling, the reality that was waiting for them once they returned to the capital was inescapable, a reality where both of them were engaged to other people. Putting his feelings for the blonde into words would just cause more pain.

“I think we should get up,” he murmured instead, and Yuri shook his head, clinging tighter. “I don't want to either,” Otabek whispered, brushing his lips against Yuri's gleaming hair before starting to disentangle himself. “Duty calls,” he added, his voice soured with unspoken regret.

* * *

The invitation to the Rose Garden took Yuri by surprise. Since their return to the palace in late December, Otabek had been careful to avoid spending any time alone with him. The new distance between them had taken its toll; Otabek looked pale and strained, and Yuri often rose late, red eyed from crying himself to sleep. Seeing each other was harder, full of longing looks and awkward silences. Best to stay away, and try to conceal their growing despair.

Now, Otabek requested his presence late one evening, and Yuri found him waiting on a low bench deep within the blooming arbours of the garden. Sitting beside him silently, the blonde noted the lack of guards or observers. They were completely alone, but Otabek seemed loathe to break the silence.

Leaning back on his wrists, Yuri gazed up into the endless sky and sighed, eyes vacant and dark as he waited for the other man to speak. Otabek folded his hands in his lap, listening to the night birds calling in the soft, blue twilight.

“They're making the betrothal announcements tomorrow, during morning court.”

“Grandfather told me. It seems unreal.”

“You knew it was coming... you've always known...”

“I...” Yuri lowered his eyes, his voice catching in his throat. “I didn't care... before...”

Drawing his robe around him against the spring chill, Otabek stared at his hands. “What changed?” he asked, voice shaking, and Yuri shook his head.

“It doesn't matter...”

“It does... to me...”

Turning, Yuri bit his lower lip, the shine in Otabek's eyes too bright, too liquid. “This time next month, I'll be married... and so will you. What _difference _does it make if I'm...”

“_What? What are you? _Upset? Angry?” Finally risking a look at Yuri, still the prince couldn't meet his eyes. Something rose up in him, a nameless need to hear the truth from the blonde, before it was too late. “I _am_... I'm being torn in half... and I think you are too. Tell me what you're thinking, Yura!”

“Don't... don't call me that...” Yuri's voice broke and he closed his eyes, murmuring a soft protest as strong fingers laced into his own. “Otabek...”

“You're my friend, Yuri... you can talk to me...”

“You won't want to hear anything I have to say.”

“That's not true...”

“Otabek, I _can't_... we have to spend the rest of our lives working together. I can't risk that relationship...”

“Why would anything you have to tell me risk it?” Otabek's hand gripped tighter, the same warmth and pressure that had become so familiar during their nights in the valley, so needed. “_Nothing _you could say will change how I feel about you...”

“How you feel?” Yuri's eyes filled with tears as he looked down at their linked hands, Otabek running his thumb over Yuri's knuckles as he nodded.

“How I feel... and how _you _feel...”

“Tomorrow we'll be betrothed, new lives with new people. What's the point?!” Yuri's words were bitter, his heart in his throat.

“Then this is the last night we have to be honest,” Otabek sighed, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Yuri's. The blonde stared into his eyes, lost for words as shared body heat wrapped around them like a cloak under the boughs of the roses, deep red petals drifting on the night breeze.

“Why did you bring me here,” Yuri sighed. “This is a place for lovers...”

“Yes... it is...” As he spoke, Otabek watched brilliant turquoise eyes close, a shining tear slipping free.

“You've always said so much without words,” Yuri murmured as Otabek leaned in and pressed his lips against the gleaming trail on his cheek. “I... I hear you... but it's not right, it's not...”

“Tomorrow you will belong to someone else, and so will I. Tonight, we are free... I promised my father I would marry his choice, and tend to them without reservation or doubt. I stand by that... but I... I want to taste happiness, even if it is just once...”

The resolve inside the blonde broke and he closed the space between them, tangling his fingers into long dark hair as he pulled their lips together. Tears flowed freely as they clung to each other, the kiss mingling bitter salt with the sweetness of relief. Yuri felt that he would never forget this night; the perfume of the dusk roses and the whispering of the trees surrounding them as they finally gave in to their desires. Pulling Otabek against his chest as he murmured a promise, Yuri folded himself into the smaller man's arms and inhaled the elixir of their breath, losing himself in warmth and softness and _love. _

_ “I'm yours, Beka... I always will be. No matter who I'm forced to wed... though I may never touch you again after tonight, my heart will always be yours.”_

* * *

Silence washed over the court as Yuri entered, walking beside his grandfather. Dressed in a modest version of his wedding robes, the rod of his grandfather's office in his hands as a symbol of his position as Heir Ambassador, he locked his eyes forward, no emotion on his face to betray the misery that clutched at his heart. His composure only cracked a fraction when he saw Otabek standing before the King.

“What's he doing here,” he hissed, eye narrow with suspicion. Was the King going to punish them for their small indiscretion in the rose garden? One kiss, however heartfelt, shouldn't be enough to bring the ire of the court...

“He has to be here, he's getting betrothed today too. Relax,” the murmured reply from his grandfather reassured him a little, and Yuri took the indicated place beside Otabek, not trusting himself to look at the man he loved in the moments before they were separated forever.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the court,” the King began, gesturing to the pair before him, “it is my great honour and pleasure to announce the betrothal of my youngest son, Prince Otabek of Kha'zhan, and the Heir Ambassador from the Kingdom of Scheznaya Gora, Lord Yuri of House Plisetsky.”

The assembled courtiers broke into wild applause, but Yuri frowned, glancing around for their future husbands, wondering where they were. He felt a brush against his fingers and looked down to find Otabek touching his hand, and the truth hit him in a wave of heat. His legs shook and he staggered, Otabek catching him around the waist to cover his loss of decorum, and he stared up into huge brown eyes filled with their own astonishment.

“Wha... what is this...?” he murmured, glancing back at the King. His grandfather stepped into view, barely concealing a smirk, and all at once reality kicked in.

Lord Nikolai threw an amused look at the King as they watched the pair, Otabek staring at Yuri with adoration even though they both still trembled from shock at the revelation. Yuri's expression shifted rapidly from confusion, through to surprise, delight and then pure fury directed at his grandfather for keeping this secret from him. Clapping his hands, the King gestured the pair to the side of the room before the volatile blonde could explode, and Yuri let his new fiancé tug him away, to be congratulated in person by Otabek's siblings.

After a whirlwind of handshakes, praise, congratulations and a smattering of barely concealed envy, Yuri and Otabek found themselves in the Royal apartments, sitting on a long couch as the Ambassador spoke quietly with the King nearby. Turning to the pair, the King pulled a rueful expression.

“Yuri, you look inches away from scolding your grandfather,” he said, and the blonde flushed. “The deception was as much my plan as his...”

“We hoped you two would become friends, perhaps even develop feelings for each other... but it wasn't our intention to make you suffer so much,” Nikolai added, looking guilty. “Our plan worked better and faster than we could anticipate.”

“You could have told us when we returned to the palace,” Yuri growled, but Otabek squeezed his hand and shook his head.

“No, they couldn't... they couldn't risk us being caught together before the official announcement. It would have caused a scandal,” Otabek pointed out. Astonished at his fiancé's unexpected grasp of the politics of the situation, Yuri glared at his grandfather who nodded in agreement.

“I see... well then,” Yuri rose and straightened his robes, tugging Otabek to his feet. “If you'll excuse us, we have several months of misery to make up for.” The King took in the stunned and delighted expression on his youngest son's face, and shook his head in amusement.

“Young love,” Nikolai chuckled, and the King nodded.

“Otabek has no idea what's about to hit him, does he?”

“None at all,” Nikolai agreed, and Yuri glared at his grandfather in disgust.

“_We're standing right here...”_

“I thought you were leaving?”

Bowing to the King as they received permission to leave, the blonde stalked out of the room, towing his prince behind him towards Otabek's part of the palace, and ignoring the affectionate laughter of the older men.

**Author's Note:**

> [Links](https://linktr.ee/artofsilvandar) to my online accounts  
I love talking to people, so please follow me on Twitter or Tumblr!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Check out the list of OtaYuri Mini Bang 2019 fics and get updates as they are published <https://otayuribigbang.tumblr.com/>


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